Leaving Home
by CelesJessa
Summary: The life that he had found was perfect, but Hohenheim can't forget the sins of his past. What drove him to leave home all of those years ago. Based on the FMA Anime story.


"There, that should do it," Hohenheim Elric said as he secured the last rope to the wooden swing he was fastening to the tree. Taking a step back, he smoothed back his blonde hair as he surveyed his work. It was a project he had been meaning to do for some time, but he kept getting sidetracked with his research. Regardless, he was happy he got it done by the beginning of summer for his children. Now that his kids were starting to walk and run, he wanted to make sure they had something to occupy them with outside; especially his oldest, Edward, who had found a particular interest in getting into his father's things.

Hohenheim's eyes drifted to the dirt road leading up to their house. Trisha Elric, the beautiful love of his life, was making her way towards him. Toddling at her feet was his oldest son, Edward Elric, struggling with a picnic basket that was almost as big as he was; his golden eyes squinted in determination. In his wife's arms was another child, his youngest, Alphonse Elric, who was clinging onto his mother with his pudgy fingers, looking out at the world with wide eyes.

As the trio approached Hohenheim, he knelt down on one knee, and rustled Edward's short blonde hair, "Hey, kiddo. Isn't that picnic basket a little too big for you?"

Edward shook his head adamantly, "Nuh uhh. I big!" Hohenheim glanced up at Trisha who just shrugged.

"He insisted that if he didn't get to carry his little brother, he got to carry the basket," Hohenheim had to smile at this, patting Edward's head again.

"See what I made for you, Ed?" Hohenheim smiled as he gestured to the swing. Opening his eyes wide in pleased surprise, Edward set the basket down and ran over to the swing that hung a little too tall for the small child. Instantly he wrapped his arms around the swing and began to pull himself into it. Chuckling, Hohenheim helped his struggling son into the swing.

While Edward was enjoying himself on his new swing, Hohenheim tipped open the lid of the picnic basket, and looked up at his wife questioningly.

"It was such a nice day out, I thought we could have a little picnic." She said as Hohenheim spread out a big picnic blanket. Once the blanket was down, Trisha carefully set little Alphonse down, who shortly began amusing himself with playing with the wiggling digits on his feet as the rest of the picnic was set out. Quickly growing bored of the swing for the moment, Edward jumped off and walked over to his little brother.

"Awfonse swing too?" Edward asked, trying to urge the small child to his feet with little success.

"No, sweetie," Trisha shook her head, picking Edward up and handing him to his father, "Alphonse is too small for the swing right now."

"Grooh," Alphonse babbled in agreement.

Hohenheim felt a simple satisfaction sitting under that oak with his wife and two adoring children. Many men wished for fame or power, but for Hohenheim, if he could spend the rest of his days like this, watching as his children grew into young men, he would have no complaints.

_I used to be like those other lofty men_, he frowned, self consciously touching his arm. _More lofty, even. _He had challenged the gods and reached for something far beyond typical earthly aspirations of power and fame.

Immortality.

And he had achieved it, through the science of his world. He used alchemy to transfer his soul from one body to another. It was the perfect answer. As soon as one body got too old, he could just transfer his soul to a younger body, thus resetting the cycle of time.

Or so he thought.

He learned the hard way that there is no such thing as immortality. Even though he had lived far past a normal human, with every new body he inhabited, his soul slowly began to die, losing its ability to maintain a body. It was while he was out searching for a way to temp the fates again and reverse his body's decomposition that he had met Trisha.

It was sad, in a way; it took him several lifetimes to finally find the answer to happiness in life. And this happiness was not in money or even immortality, but in one human woman and the two children they both brought into this world.

But this was not learned without its price. Even though Hohenheim vowed that his current body would be his last, he did not just have to deal with an aging body. His own body was decomposing, little by little. Because of this he always wore long sleeves and long pants, even in the hottest days of summer. Trisha was the only one who knew of his body slowly rotting away. He didn't want to have to deal with the questions it would bring up with anyone else.

He was broken from his thoughts by Edward, who was tugging on Hohenheim's sleeve, demanding his father's attention, "Dah-Dad. I full." He said, indicating to his half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Oh are you?" Hohenheim glanced at the plastic cup sitting to Edward's side and smiled knowingly, "You didn't even touch your milk."

At this, Edward pinched his little lips together as if he had sucked on a lemon, "Me no like…"

"Now Edward," Trisha said, "Even Alphonse drank all of his milk," She indicated to Alphonse, who, having just finished his bottle, was settling back comfortably, a sleepy look in his eyes.

"That 'cause he a baby." Edward said, crawling over to his little brother. Trisha said a few words to Edward about being careful around the baby, "I not a baby." He said, poking Alphonse's pudgy belly. Alphonse screwed up his face as if he was going to cry, but then opened it in a wide yawn.

"Oh yeah," Hohenheim grinned, picking up Edward and holding him in his lap, "You look like a little guy to me." He said, tickling Ed, causing him to roll around squealing happily.

"I-I-I not little! I big!" Edward insisted once getting his breath back and crawling up his father's shirt. His little fingers dug at his father's sides in a feeble attempt to tickle him back. Hohenheim chortled and fell back into the grass, his giggling son snuggling up to his father, wrapping his little arms lovingly as far around Hohenheim's as he could and resting his head on his large chest.

Hohenheim smiled. How had he missed out on this for so long?

Much later in the day, Hohenheim had sunk into the bathtub for a relaxing bath. It was one of the very few times that he had to confront his own weakness. Almost as bad as trying to explain it to anyone that saw it was the shame he felt in himself whenever he saw the rotting flesh that was snaking its way down his arm, and beginning to spread across his chest like some kind of cancer. He turned his eyes away from the putrid purple flesh and quickly finished his bath.

As he crawled out of the bathtub, he realized that he had forgotten to bring in a change of clothes. He pulled on his pants he had been wearing, but glanced at his shirt in disdain. It was still all sweaty from his work that day. He really didn't want to put it back on, and the boys were probably still outside with their mother. Besides, it wasn't the first time he had walked from the bathroom to his bedroom without all of his disfigured skin hidden.

Seeing no problem with his actions, he pulled open the door to the bathroom and stepped out; and instantly froze in his tracks. The boys were no longer outside, but had come inside for a glass of lemonade after so much playing. He felt his face heat up as he saw Edward's eyes immediately snapped on the large purple patches of Hohenheim's skin. He was young, but still old enough to know when something wasn't right. His small face twisted into a confused frown as he stared.

Trisha gave Hohenheim a look. She had told him many times that he would have to show his sons some day. He had just been hoping that some day could be farther in the future. Once again, he had been wrong.

Hohenheim tried to smile at Edward and held his arm out to his son. He hoped that the sooner that they got over this obstacle, the sooner they could get on with their lives.

With tentative fingers, Edward gently poked hard on one of the purple-red splotches. Whatever he had been expecting in his little boy mind, it hadn't been the cold dead flesh that he had felt, and his face instantly screwed up as a giant wail escaped his mouth. He scrambled out of his chair and clung to his mother's dress. Alphonse, sensing his older brother's distraught began wailing as well.

Hohenheim felt a new shame fill his heart. Not the stares of fellow townspeople, or even his own shame for his condition, but having his sons cry out of fear when they saw him, that is what drove daggers into the deepest part of his soul.

Hohenheim blindly turned and ran back to the safety of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, in his panic to get out of there, to shut out the sounds of Trisha now trying to calm his two sons.

_Idiot Idiot Idiot! _He yelled at himself, pacing the room in a frustrated rush. He sat down on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, but he could not block out the vision of Edward's frightened face as he touched his own father's body. _My disgusting, rotting body._

After a few minutes, he heard the door to the bedroom quietly open and shut. He felt a light weight as Trisha sat next to him and took his hands in hers.

"Edward was just surprised, Honey," She said quietly, "And you know how easily Alphonse cries." She gave him a sad smile, "He's so little. He doesn't understand."

"And how is he going to ever understand?" Hohenheim said with quiet intensity, "He or Alphonse will have to grow up with a freak for a father." He shook his head in anger, "I can't even take the boy's swimming. What kind of father can I be?"

"You're a wonderful father and both of your boys love you dearly," Trisha said firmly, "It will just take some time for them to understand." She gave a laugh, "and you know kids, they don't know the first thing about tact." She ran a hand lovingly across his beard as she cupped his chin, "It's just how kids are, Honey."

Hohenheim nodded, although he didn't feel any better.

The feeling haunted him for the rest of the evening, and he spent the entire night, staring up at the ceiling, hearing Edward and Alphonse's cries in his mind. Until that moment, he had thought he had evolved past the human emotion of fear, but he now realized that he was afraid; afraid of his children ever looking at him like that again; afraid of his children sharing the same disdain that he held for himself.

So that morning, without saying a word, early so he wouldn't wake the others, he silently filled a suitcase with some things. Pulling on a coat, he numbly made his way to the door, like he had done to so many families in past lives. He was fully aware that he was just running away but… his research had gone too long without attention. And if there was some way he could reverse this rotting of his body…

He saw Trisha appear in the doorway, looking at her husband silently. She didn't want him to leave, but she wasn't going to stand in his way of doing what he had to do. That's what he loved about Trisha. She was such a strong woman, even if she didn't display it for everyone to see.

"I'll…" He said, his voice cracked with emotion as he walked up to his wife and brushed a stray hair back from her face, "I'll be back." He said. Trisha nodded, as if she had already known he was going to say that. Hohenheim looked at the door that led to Ed and Al's room. He felt a twang in his heart as he longed to see their faces again but he knew it would just make it harder to leave.

Silently, he turned towards the front door. He heard the creek of a small door and he looked back. Standing timidly in the doorway was Edward, tiredly rubbing his golden eyes and looking up at his father with a confused look.

Hohenheim's heart panged again, for his children, and for the perfect life that he was leaving. But he wanted to be a normal father for Ed and Al, a normal husband for Trisha. It was what they deserved, because they were nothing less than perfect. After he had wasted so many lifetimes before he found his perfect happiness, he didn't want to mar it with his mistakes of the past.

It was that drive and determination that caused him to take those fateful steps out of his house, closing the door on the family he left behind.


End file.
